


Rituals

by PunkPinkPower



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Samurai
Genre: Adorable, F/F, Flowers, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkPinkPower/pseuds/PunkPinkPower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mia brings her fresh flowers every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rituals

Mia brings her fresh flowers every day. 

Emily isn’t even sure how or when she does it. She knows she doesn’t have the time to get to a market most days, and there aren’t many flowering plants in or around the Shiba property. But every day, when Emily goes to her room at night, she is assuaged by fresh and beautiful flowers in a yellow vase on her bedside table. 

Carnations, Daffodils, and Daisy’s. Gladiolus’s, Hydrangeas, and Peony’s. Iris’s, Lily’s, and Tulips. Sometimes even flowers she has to look up the names of as their lovely scents fill her room. 

She starts to wonder, as it goes on, if perhaps Mia has a secret garden hidden in her room. If, maybe, in her closet, there’s a passageway to a beautiful mystic place filled with all of these flowers. Or maybe, if Mia is a fairy who can conjure flowers out of thin air. 

There must be a reasonable explanation, Emily knows, but she doesn’t want to know what it is. Imagining Mia as a metaphorical mother earth figure is more fun to dream about. 

Sometimes, she wears them in her hair. She’ll tuck a daisy into her hairstyle, or behind her ear. Mia always catches it, her mouth doing a funny smile as her eyes light up. It’s like a quiet game they play, these flowers. 

Emily starts wishing she could do something in return. Each night as she falls asleep staring at the flowers, she wracks her brain for the perfect reciprocation. 

Only she doesn’t have a magic garden, or a magic anything. She doesn’t have many gift-able skills. The only thing Emily thinks she might be good enough at is writing. 

So she writes Mia notes. Little notes, that say nothing more than “You’re my favorite” or “You make me smile”, and big notes, with poems and metaphors and descriptions of how the flowers make her feel. 

She leaves them everywhere. Under Mia’s door, at first, but then in her drawer in the bathroom, and under her practice sword. She leaves them in the refrigerator on days Mia cooks, and between the couch cushions where Mia likes to sit. She leaves as many notes as Mia leaves flowers, and it goes on and on and on and on. 

Until one day, when Emily comes into her room after a long day, and there are no flowers. She stares at the empty vase, unbelieving, heartbroken. What has she done, she thinks, that would make Mia not leave her flowers? 

Emily tries to let it go, to forget about it and sleep, but the lack of the flowers is so prominent now that she is used to them that she can’t. She can’t do anything but fill herself with dread and wonder if maybe she’s written the wrong thing. 

Finally, after a long while of staring at the place where the flowers should be, Emily gets up and leaves her room. She pads gently down the hall to Mia’s door, and then knocks as lightly as she can possibly knock. 

“Come in,” Mia calls from inside. Emily opens the door, but the room is dark. She steps in uncertainly, and pulls out her samurizer to light the way. 

Mia is lying down on her bed, still fully clothed and on top of the covers. 

She smiles when she sees Emily in the dim light. Emily tries to smile back. It must not fill her face, though, because Mia reaches out for her hand in the darkness. “What’s wrong?” 

Emily shakes her head, let’s Mia take her hand gently. She doesn’t know what to say. Mia tugs on her hand, makes Emily sit on the bed, but Mia stays lying down, obviously too tired to do much else. 

Emily’s samurizer goes dim, and she closes it, leaving them sitting in the darkness of the room, the moonlight coming through the window. 

“Today was the first time in months,” Emily says, unable to see Mia’s face and feeling braver, “That you didn’t leave me flowers.” 

She hears Mia shift, can see her face smiling slightly. “I wasn’t sure you’d notice.” 

Emily frowns. “Of course I noticed,” she says, squeezing Mia’s hand. “They’re my favorite part of the day.” 

At that, Mia sits up, albeit slowly, and reaches over into her bedside drawer. She pulls out a little yellow paper flower and puts it in Emily’s hand. “It’s not a real flower,” Mia explains, yawning. “But I made it myself.” 

Emily feels herself relax, holds onto the little paper flower with a smile. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get real ones today,” Mia says gently, lying back down on her pillow. “And I wasn’t sure this would be… enough.” 

“It’s perfect,” Emily says, smiling, and she reaches back for Mia’s hand. “Absolutely perfect.” 

Mia smiles in the light, and she gives Emily’s arm a tug. Emily lies down on the bed next to her, facing her, and she places the little yellow flower behind her on the bed stand as she does so. 

Emily reaches out, runs a hand across Mia’s cheek. She feels the briefest press of lips against her own, and she sighs contentedly. 

Mia curls into her, and the two fall asleep in each other arms. 

When Emily wakes up, she is alone in Mia’s bed. She stretches, looks around, and smiles. 

Somehow, magically, there are fresh flowers on the bed side table.


End file.
